Castillo. Day three. Thursday.
I HAVE TO CLEAN MY SHEETS. Certainly, I have to take a shower.
When I wake up the next day, I'm all sticky, as are my blankets. I slept like a log after that last bout of masturbation. I didn't clean it up. Now, I have to pay for it.
It's early enough that there's little movement in the house right now. I strip down and gather all the stained garments together. I grab my bathrobe, wrap it around myself, then head to the bathroom, which is also the washroom. I prepare the load and get it ready to run, but I'll start it later, after everyone's up and had time to shower.
When I stand naked in front of the mirror, I stare at myself and suddenly, I get it. I'm nowhere near an athlete's body, but I look good. In fact, to my knowledge, I've never looked this good. It's less about my body and more about what I project. My eyes, my face, my stance - all of it builds up to what appears as a confident attitude.
- Damn, I mutter. No wonder...
I quickly move past it and hit the water. I let the coolness of the water calm down the increased tension in my body. I stay there for about ten minutes; when I walk out, I hear muffled sounds from beyond the door. I let the water run, for the illusion, and I creep near the door, listening in.
- ...think he's naked in there? I hear my younger sister Heather say.
- Of course he is! the other whispers back. Who showers clothed?
I can't believe it: they're at it again! Again, I'm half-tempted to pull the door open and reveal myself to them stark naked. That doesn't seem like a good idea, so instead, I return to the shower and switch off the water. I let out a large yawn; I hear them suddenly scurrying away. I hold back my laughter as I start to dry myself. The idea dawns on me that I can always tease them with it. I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist - I choose one whose folded length covers my middle area but not much more, so they can get a good view of my legs almost up to my crotch. I hold it in place with one hand as I exit the bathroom and walk down the hall.
The unexpected sight of my mom, down the hall, stops me a moment. She sees me like this; I think I see her blush. My mom is wearing her star-embroidered nightgown; she's had it for years. She was clearly heading for the bathroom, so she resumes her way towards me. I can see her eyes wandering to my figure. At first, it's a bit disconcerting, but I quickly reason that if I can amaze myself with my own look, then certainly others can be amazed too. All the recent praise about my appearance clearly shows that.
- Good morning Grant, she says as she stops near me.
I dare not let go of the towel wrapped around my waist, lest it fall and mom sees me naked. She leans in, quick peck on the cheek. I resist blushing as best as I can.
- Sleep well? she asks.
- I did. Thanks. You?
- Like a log, she answers.
She takes a moment, standing beside me, then walks past.
- I'll be in the shower.
- Okay, mom.
I can't help but turn around and watch her walk into the bathroom. She closes the door. My mind goes somewhere for a moment; I return to my earlier idea and head towards my sisters' room. As I reach the door, I realize I'm more nervous than I thought I would be. I hesitate as I swallow my nerves. Then, I knock on the door.
As expected, I hear movement from the room; Heather opens, then blankly stares. Her eyes go down to my feet, then back up along my frame. This makes me smile and emboldens me. Stacey, from her bed, tilts her head; her eyes grow as she sees me. Feeling their glare on me, I decide that I'm entitled to stare back. Heather's wearing a sleeveless pajama with a high neck line and matching shorts; Stacey's got a t-shirt on and nothing convering her legs, but since she's seated on her bed, I can't really see anything.
- Good morning, I tell them.
They don't answer; I was right to do this. I caught them off-guard.
- I was going to tell you that you could use the shower, but mom beat you to it, so...
- Okay, Heather mumbles. T-Thanks.
I stand there a moment longer; I catch their discreet glances towards my covered portion of body. This is so funny to me. I decide then that I've done enough. I turn away and head to my room. The sound of my younger sister's voice reaches my ear.
- Oh my word!
I decide to race into my room, closing my door behind me; I drop the cloth and climb onto my blanket-free bed, listening in on their conversation.
- ...can't believe he did that! Stacey speaks up.
- I liked it! Heather says. It was bold.
- You would like it, yeah.
I hear movement, like Heather is jumping on a bed.
- Like you didn't look. Admit it. Grant is hot.
I wait on bated breath.
- He is, fine, Stacey admits.
- We really need to take him swimming! Heather insists.
- Well, we can ask him at breakfast.
I decide to pull away; I've heard enough. If people ever tell me there's such a thing as too much praise, I'll laugh them off. I adore it. Being told you're handsome never gets old, even if it comes from people you wouldn't expect.
AT BREAKFAST, I get the invitation; I don't hesitate to accept. We set it for early afternoon, when the sun is highest and day is warmest, the best time for the pool to feel best. When asked about my plans of the morning, I admit I have none, but I tell my family that I want to handle personal stuff. Mom says she's going to see friends while she's not working (time off for grieving). My sisters will probably hang back at the house, they tell me. I can't help but wonder if they want to one-up me for this morning. Not that I'd mind.
I'm out the door rather quickly; as I pass by my neighor Pauline Walker's home, I'm tempted to visit her for some intimate time. But my mind is on something else, and I wander towards the city library. Questions have started to pop into my mind and I need some answers. I'm fairly certain the information I'm looking for can be found there. I doubt it's been uploaded to the internet, given its unique nature, and it wasn't in my father's affairs, as those have been thoroughly inspected. Perhaps it's a fool's errand, but if so, I'll have wasted only a morning on it.
There's also another reason I want to go to the library, and I suppose I've been postponing it since I read my father's letter, a few days ago. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.
I enter the building and make my way to the front desk. It's been so long since I've been here that I don't recall how to use it properly - especially for what I'm looking for. The desk clerk looks up at me; she's a twenty something brunette with glasses, a white shirt and a strict demeanor. I smile and I notice that her attitude shifts; a discreet smile purses her lips.
- Hello, how can I help? What's your name?
- I'm Grant. You are?
- Mary. Mary Winston. Hi.
She bows her head to me; I nod.
- Newspaper clippings from previous years, I tell her. Can you help?
- Of course, she chimes. Right this way.
She steps from behind the counter; I notice her lovely black skirt stopping right above her knees, comfortable shoes. I can't help but notice the sway of her hips, and I wonder if it's natural or deliberate. I merely follow without inquiring and we head to the right section. She explains the classification, then asks if I'm looking for anything in particular.
- Well, one should be easy to find, I tell her. But the other one... it's about my family history.
- Go on?
I quickly explain to her about my dad's passing; as she extends her sympathies, her hand grazes my arm in a thoughful gesture. I follow it with the fact that my dad left me a legacy (I don't tell her what) that comes from his father, and perhaps further than that. She's stumped for a moment.
- Grant, you probably won't find what you need here.
- I won't?
- Legacies don't make journal news. However, they are stocked in the archives at City Hall - or is it the Court? Yep, the Court.
I seem down from her answer; again, her hand tries to perk me up as it caresses my arm.
- If you want help, I can direct you.
Her generosity seems over the top to me; again, I'm not wondering where it comes from, but it does raise an odd question in my mind.
- Look... I... this is really personal and I would never want anyone to hear about this. Ok?
The look she gives me back is priceless; she seems to be horrified that I would doubt her ability to keep my secret. She takes a step back to recover.
- Grant, I would never...
- But you just me, I tell her. You don't know me.
- I know enough, she insists.
- How? How do you know?
If I'm going to understand what's happening, then I need to understand HOW it's happening, and questions like these might be the key. It takes her a moment to answer.
- Because... because I feel it. Like, I know you. Like... you're really, really special.
- All of that after only five minutes?
- Yes. It's... destiny, or something. I don't know.
Clearly, she can't explain it, but I have enough to go on that I'm willing to indulge in telling her about my secret. I need to tell someone, and it might as well be a total stranger that obviously won't tell my secret.
I show her the ring.
- It's pretty.
- From my dad. The legacy. I want to know its history. Where it comes from.
- Have you tried a jeweler's?
- It's quite old, I think. I might. Look, this ring is precious. I... I don't want people to see it or it might get stolen.
She puts a finger on her lips; I thank her with a nod. She continues.
- So... maybe the court? But that's only if the item was listed publically. You're thinking it might not be?
- That's my fear, I guess. I mean, my dad told no one about this before he died, and I only learned about it after getting it.
- It is pretty... kinda like you.
The praise hits me again and I shy away a little; this makes her laugh.
- Grant, I want to help you.
- The first thing I want to know, I tell her, is about my father, and that's in the news. He... he cheated on my mom years ago, and he fathered a daughter from another woman.
- Oh... how did your mom take it?
- Not well!
Her question surprises me; as if someone in my mother's predicament could react well to such an event. I let it slide.
